


Death (one-shot)

by Daringdoublebassist



Series: Nat/Mia Shorts [11]
Category: Dead Like Me, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Crossover, F/F, Grim reaper au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 14:44:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18551890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daringdoublebassist/pseuds/Daringdoublebassist
Summary: “Hi!” Brown eyes smiled brightly, a warm glow blushing pale cheeks. “You’re hot!” Sleek eyebrows cocked invitingly. “You’re also dead.”





	Death (one-shot)

She felt a shiver, and then darkness. Arms flew down, wrenching her from a mangled body, and out onto warm, pliable leaf-litter. Dark eyes and soft hands queried her wellness while, tingling, she felt her soul realign with her previous form. Sunlight and air burned her senses. It forced her to address the person and scene resolving before her. 

“Hi!” Brown eyes smiled brightly, a warm glow blushing pale cheeks. “You’re hot!” Sleek eyebrows cocked invitingly. “You’re also dead.” 

Natasha’s poker face never cracked; not once. Instead, she blinked. There wasn’t a lot else to do. Deep breaths were supposed to be restful. Should she take a breath? What about yawning, was yawning an option now? Or peeing? Natasha could remember needing the ladies’ before she left her body.

She hadn’t needed Brown Eyes to state the obvious. Not even Black Widows survived industrial-grade lawnmowers. There was her body: pulverised into barely more than human soup, splattered among the tulips of the nearest flower bed. She never expected a graceful end, but it bothered Natasha that she had brought all that blood and gore into the afterlife. Here was a gorgeous girl hitting on her, and she looked like an extra for a horror movie. Could the dead take showers?

“Are you a necromancer?” She intended to ask; however, it came out more like “Are you necromaniac?” Smooth, girl. Smooth. 

Brown Eyes snorted. She shook luscious locks. 

“No, I’m a grim reaper.”

“Oh.” Well, that made some sense. “Where’s your scythe?”

“I don’t have one,” Brown Eyes smirked and, taking her by the arm, lead Natasha away from her death scene. “But I do have a name: Maria. What’s yours?”


End file.
